


though the storm is raging on

by rocketgirl2



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketgirl2/pseuds/rocketgirl2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thought leaving behind the bad parts of his past meant giving up the good parts, too.  When he reconnects with Castiel, who he met in a mental hospital, he realizes that sometimes things do change for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	though the storm is raging on

**Author's Note:**

> While no archive warnings apply, this story does include allusions to depression/suicide attempts, and disrespect toward (one's own) mental illness. 
> 
> This fic is sort of a combination of two prompts I was given (Silver Linings Playbook and teen!AU) and also sort of set in the 'verse of episode 4.17, "It's a Terrible Life." I say "sort of" because Dean and Sam are childhood friends in this story, and Sam is with Sarah rather than Madison (as per the requester's wishes). Yes, I AUd an AU. 
> 
> Many thanks to Jen for the beta; any remaining mistakes are my own.

Dean runs into him again when he least expects it.  Shouldn't even recognize the guy, because he insists on putting all _that_ behind him, because he's getting to the point where _fine_ is just a bit of an exaggeration rather than being a flat-out lie.  But he turns around from the deli section with his tilapia and there, staring at the potatoes like he's not sure how to operate them, is Cas.

Dean could still make a run for it, if he moved fast.  Head down, take the detour around the dairy section and to the checkout lanes at the far side of the store.  But instead he freezes up and in that split second of indecision Cas looks up, his eyes widen, and he says, "Dean?"

 

 

 

+

 

"Dean?" Castiel had said the day after they'd met, when Dean was too fucked up to know how to reply.  He'd been awake too long because every time he tried to sleep his brain entered panic mode.  Staying in his bed only meant the cycle would repeat itself, so instead he paced.  "Dean, why are you awake?"

Dean hadn't answered because he barely knew the guy, and he didn't care to.  There was no point in playing nice when everyone here _knew_ what was wrong with him anyway.

"You should go to bed," Cas'd continued, and that had broken Dean out of his reverie enough.

"What the hell do you care?" he'd asked, harsh.

"Someone had to say it," says Cas.  Then, seemingly unrelated, "you're new."

"Yeah.  You're not."

 "I have been here awhile, but not long enough."  

Dean slid to the floor, slowly, leaning back against the wall.  "You think there's gonna be a 'long enough'?"

 

 

 

+

 

Dean still wants to run because he and Cas—they hadn't had it easy, okay.  And he's still trying to run from his problems, all these years later, because there's nothing else he can do.  If anyone asked, Dean would say that he and Cas hadn't worked because they were too young and stupid, but that's not the truth—he and Cas were too broken, and they were both looking for someone who could fix them.  It worked, until it fell apart in the biggest mess Dean had ever been a part of, and then Dean had gotten out.

He realizes now that he has no idea what it did to Cas, if it had wrecked him as completely as it had Dean.  He doesn't know if he wants to find out.

"You look well," says Cas, at last.

Dean flashes his best charming grin, the one he does when he wants to get people off his back.  "Of course I do."

"Are you?" Cas asks, because he was always on top of things like that.

Dean shrugs.  "Are _you_?"

"I am better.

Dean can't think of anything to say to move the conversation forward, and casts around instead for an excuse to end it.

"I would like to catch up with you," says Cas.  "Things are different now."

"Maybe they should stay that way," says Dean.

Cas doesn't believe him.

 

 

 

+

 

Dean pretends there's no problem, that he's fine, because as far as he knows he _is_.  He's all set to go off to Princeton in the fall and get a fancy degree so he can start a fancy career and start working toward a fancy house.  Sure, his little sister Jo is a brat sometimes, but Sam's the best friend a guy could ask for and the guys on his team look up to him to lead them to victories and his parents are there at every game, screaming as he rounds the bases for yet another home run.  So, no problem, really.  His life is easily categorized into all the bits that should be there, and nothing more.

He uses the image to disarm people, to get them to stop talking.  Most of the time, it works.

Cas sees through it, though, and makes Dean talk—Dean has no idea how, because he's become such a master of bullshit that it's second nature now.  But Cas has an ungodly gaze that can probably see right through Dean, and he's a master of waiting out Dean's silences.  Besides, it's not like they'll ever see each other again.  So Dean tells him the things he doesn't want to voice: the creeping pressures he's felt since middle school, the fact that things have never _quite_ been right and he can't figure out why, the fact that he's terrified nothing can fix whatever's wrong because he can't even find the problem.

Cas sits there and listens and, eventually, starts to share some secrets of his own.

 

 

+

 

They exchange numbers.  Dean compromises there because it still gives him time to run from this, to change his mind, to make a million excuses until Cas finally gives up on him.  He hurries out of the store and heads straight home, dialling Sam as soon as he reaches his apartment.  "You have time to get a beer?"

Sam says yes because Sam always says yes; Dean's amazed he hasn't managed to fuck this friendship up yet.  He'd been so sure that Sam's acceptance into Stanford was the beginning of them eventually growing apart, but they'd stayed in touch all through college—Sam would have nothing less.  After they'd both gotten their degrees, Sam's from California and Dean's from Kansas, Sam had come back.  And that had been that.  No drifting away required.

They meet a half an hour later at Dean's favorite bar and he decides against a light beer; he wants to treat himself tonight.  "How's Sarah?" he asks, as Sam flags down the bartender.

"She's great!  We have an appointment tomorrow to pick out our colors.  She wants my tie to be blue so it matches her bouquet, but I'm not sure."

Dean shakes his head.  "She's got you whipped good, Sammy," he says.  "Just nod and do as she tells you, it'll all come out right."

They shoot the shit for a few minutes more until they're both settled in, and Dean says, "Did I ever tell you about Cas?"

He honestly can't remember—the first few months after getting out of the hospital are still fuzzy in his memory, between the lingering emotions and the stress and the meds.

"Yeah," says Sam.  "Yeah, what about him?"

Dean shrugs.  "Ran into him in the supermarket today.  He wanted to catch up."

"And you don't?"

"Didn't end too well last time."

Sam considers it for a moment.  "Didn't start too well last time, either."  

He has a point.

 

 

+

 

To say that Dean is lost would be an understatement.  Of course he is, but so is Cas, and that's what matters.  After Cas starts looking at for him, Dean starts to do the same.  It's good; it gives him something to focus on.  He figures the same goes for Cas.

Missouri, the head nurse, is pleased with his progress.  Cas' too, she says, and it's good that the two of them have found a friend.  "Which is not to say that you boys can just give up everything else we've been working on," she says.  "But you work on it together, if it helps."

It did, and then it didn't anymore because Cas' kisses were too much like a stiff drink after a bad day and Dean didn't even realize he was falling again until he was halfway there.  He crumpled, taking Cas down with him, and before they'd gotten the chance to sort anything out Cas was gone, moved, not _out_ , but not there.  

Dean eventually surfaced alone, and he didn't spare a thought for Cas because he was too busy clinging to what he had.  He told himself it was for the best.  (He never believed it).

 

 

+

 

"Where did you go?"  Dean asks Cas when he answers the phone.  Cas is silent.

 "After—last time," says Dean.  "Before.  I just.  I never knew."

"I had thought we might go for a coffee," suggests Cas, eventually.  

"I work," says Dean.  "It'll have to be on a weekend."

"I can do that."  Cas gives him a location of a coffeeshop, a time, a date.  Dean agrees to meet him.

"Dean," says Cas, before he hangs up.  "Thank you."

"Yeah," says Dean, still not sure what Cas is grateful for.

 

 

+

 

Dean doesn't like to say he'd gotten better, because that implies that everything is behind him now, that better is a place that he had reached.  And it's not.  He had improved, steadily, until he'd been able to start college—at home, _just in case_ —and put himself through it, not like he'd expected, but not as bad as he'd feared a state school might be.  The day Dean graduated college he'd thought, _yes, this is it, my life is back on track now_.

"It has been for four years," his mom had told him.  "You've worked hard for this, Dean."

Dean didn't know about that, but he did know that now he had a chance to do something.  Get a job for a bit and then return to grad school, get promoted, settle down.  It hadn't taken him long to find a position with Sandover and he'd been rising steadily through the ranks since then.  Grad school is still a possibility, but may not be a necessity.  Dean doesn't mind.  He likes his job, likes the people who work there.  And even if he still feels like something's missing—well, he's dealt with that for enough of his life that he's used to it. And he's aware that it could be so much worse.

 

 

+

 

Dean shows up at the coffeeshop ten minutes early wearing jeans and a pullover, gets a latte, and waits for Cas to show.  He's still nervous, and he drums his fingers on the table: a bad habit of his.  Mom had always hated it, and Jo would punch him in the arm until he stopped.  

Cas is right on time, of course, and he sits down across from Dean.  "You came," he says, and he sounds a bit amazed.

"'Course I did," says Dean.

"I thought you might not," says Cas.  "We did not part on good terms."

"Yeah, and this is you giving me another chance," says Dean.  He's glad he listened to Sam and made it a point to show up today.  

"Dean," says Cas, looking sad, "it wasn't your fault.  You don't still blame yourself, do you?"

Dean shrugs.  "One of us flipped out.  Wasn't you."

"I think the both of us were rather 'flipped out' at the time."

"Yeah, okay," says Dean.  "I'll give you that one.  So we here to talk about that, or you have other plans?"

"I missed you," says Cas.  "I thought of you a lot.  I—I wished we had another chance to try this again, now that we're both able to take care of ourselves."

"Hell, I don't know about the taking care of myself part," says Dean, "I don't think I've done laundry in a couple of weeks."  But he's breaking down, looking at Cas, who still has that same insightful gaze, the same hopeful smile.  "But I think I might like to, you know.  Get to know you again.  Or now.  Whatever."

Even ten years later, Cas still looks the same when he's grateful.  "I hope you don't expect me to be perfect.  I'm still working through a lot of things."

Dean nods.  "Me too.  Hey, d'you remember Missouri?

"'Work on it together, if it helps'?" Cas quotes.

"Yeah."  Dean thinks about that.  "I think—I think last time we weren't as together as we thought, y'know?  Because I think it would help, having you there."

"Yes," says Cas.  "I agree."

"Well then."  Dean can't hide his smile.  "I guess we're gonna have to see a lot of each other.  Especially when things get rough.  You might have to sit through some action movies with me."

"You might have to let me buy you dinner."  It's good to know that Cas hasn't lost his talent for deadpan humor.

"I think I could be okay with that," says Dean.

"Good."

Dean's mostly over expecting _good_ to be an overarching theme of his life.  But maybe, he thinks, it could be.


End file.
